


For Lucius

by sweetcarolanne



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Hopeful Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Magic, Potions, Scheming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-18
Updated: 2019-08-18
Packaged: 2020-07-20 13:46:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19993201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweetcarolanne/pseuds/sweetcarolanne
Summary: For Lucius, Snape would do anything... even forge an alliance with Dumbledore and scheme to take over the wizarding world...





	For Lucius

**Author's Note:**

  * For [neverminetohold](https://archiveofourown.org/users/neverminetohold/gifts).
  * Translation into 中文 available: [[授翻]For Lucius](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22479940) by [riminal](https://archiveofourown.org/users/riminal/pseuds/riminal)



> Dear recipient, I hope that you like this story!
> 
> Many thanks to my anonymous beta.

A sharp herbal scent began to permeate the air, contrasting with the faintly metallic smell of the light, silvery smoke that was slowly rising from Snape’s cauldron. His hand hovered over the vessel, clutching a small bottle made of blue glass, but he changed his mind and with an irritable shake of his head, he pulled back and picked up a clear jar full of dried sage leaves instead, pouring in half its contents..

“Much better,” Snape murmured, breathing in the now more palatable aroma and placing the jar back where it belonged. His spine stiffened and he almost shuddered with distaste at an unwanted, intrusive memory.

That same nose-curling smell of herbs in the air, years ago… and the soft press of Lucius’s lips against his ear, teasing in their gentleness. Snape closed his eyes, recalling the silky texture of Lucius’s hair on his bare skin as the two men embraced, and the bitter anguish of the words that Lucius had been whispering.

“It’s something that I have to do, Severus. I must have heirs, and Narcissa has the most perfect pure-blood heritage and is already a dear friend. If I don’t propose to her now, someone else will… and my parents may try and steer me towards a witch I don’t like nearly as much. Of course I could never feel as deeply for her as I do for you… but I must get married, and soon.”

“Stop it,” Snape said aloud, his voice curt and colder than stone. He was speaking not to the Lucius Malfoy of times past, but to his present self. Control was more important now than it had ever been. Voldemort had already taken the first of Snape’s great loves from him, and every bit of concentration, willpower and forward planning would be needed to prevent the monster who called himself the Dark Lord from taking the second.

Snape watched and waited, forcing himself to be patient while the potion simmered over flames and its colour changed from a sickly green to a deep, rich chocolate brown. When at last the liquid was of the right consistency, Snape removed the cauldron from the fire to cool and kept an ear out for any cries or calls from the bedroom. Hearing none, he at last poured some of the concoction into a cup and carried it to where Lucius lay.

Lucius was in Snape’s bed, curled underneath the covers and apparently asleep. Only his pale face showed above the blankets, one cheekbone marred by a single bruise. Voldemort had let his icy air of arrogance slip enough to lash out, it seemed.

He would be otherwise unmarked, Snape knew, steeling his nerves against the desire to shudder yet again. The Cruciatus curse left few to no visible traces of the unspeakable agonies it inflicted, and whatever else Voldemort had done to Lucius also remained mercifully hidden from Snape’s sight.

Snape bent down to brush a few strands of white-blond hair away from Lucius’s forehead, and Lucius stirred and sighed, sitting up and attempting to stay composed but still looking very weak.

“Drink this,” Snape told him, and Lucius took the cup with shaking hands, struggling to hold it as he took slow sips. A little colour returned to Lucius’s face, although his pallid complexion did not naturally display much. Snape watched Lucius closely, ever attentive lest the cup should drop from Lucius’s grasp, but Lucius drank all of the potion and was at last able to stay sitting without collapsing back upon the bed.

“Thank you, Severus,” Lucius whispered, a note of tenderness creeping into his voice along with his characteristic pure-blood pride. After he handed the cup back to Snape, his fingers brushed lightly across the back of Snape’s hand and lingered for a moment, and there was more affection in that simple touch than Snape had received from anyone in a very long time. Snape almost gasped, but restrained himself from what he and Lucius would deem an unseemly show of emotion at such a serious moment.

Snape placed the cup on the nightstand, and moved to sit on a chair beside the bed. He did not speak, but gazed upon Lucius with gentle concern, hoping that the man he still thought of as much more than a friend would relax and fall back asleep so that he could heal faster. But Lucius’s grey eyes remained open and fixed on Snape.

At last Snape, uneasy at being watched like this, broke the silence.

“You should rest, Lucius. It will make the potion more effective, and soon you will be your old self again.

“Severus, you know better than that. I can never again be the man I was.”

The suddenness and bitterness of Lucius’s words made Snape sit bolt upright. He opened his mouth to contradict Lucius, to reassure him that all would be well, but Lucius shook his head and made a weary, feeble motion with one slim hand.

“For their own safety, Narcissa and Draco will have renounced me. If they did not, the Dark Lord would have them killed. As we speak, the Death Eaters will be searching for me, with orders to kill me on sight.” 

Lucius fell back against the pillows, attempting to bestow a haughty glare upon Snape, but the expression on his face revealed only loving exasperation and a sorrow that could never be spoken aloud. Snape could not stop himself from taking Lucius’s hand in his own then, interlacing his fingers with those of the man he loved.

“Don’t worry about the Death Eaters. You will be safe here at Hogwarts with me, and I have had several opportunities to speak with Macnair and Avery. They have come around to my way of thinking, and I believe they will persuade the others that I am right. That madman who calls himself the Dark Lord cares not one whit about pure blood or true magic. All he wants is power for himself, and immortality. And what has he brought to the wizarding world and to us, his loyal followers? Nothing but death, misery and utterly pointless war. We have suffered enough.”

Lucius gently squeezed Snape’s hand then, and a crafty smile flitted across his face.

“You will speak to Dumbledore tonight, then?” he whispered, his hopeful tone igniting courage in Snape’s heart.

Snape nodded.

“Yes. The old fool believes that I have truly come back to his side, and we can use his influence to finally be rid of Voldemort. And then, you and I will take the power for ourselves. What say you, future Minister for Magic Malfoy?”

Lucius’s smile grew broader at these words.

“I like the sound of your plan – my future, and true, Dark Lord,” he purred, and he did not resist when Snape bent down to kiss him on the lips.

Much later, the reluctant patient was sleeping again, and Snape, hope alive within his heart for the first time in ages, mentally began to prepare himself for the conversation that would change the wizarding world forever. 

In the meantime, Snape would have to start making even riskier plans.

He went to his potion supplies again and began to carefully select one jar of ingredients after another. Essences distilled from deadly red and white toadstools; nightshade and hemlock, and the venom of every lethal creature known to creep or crawl upon the face of the earth. And when he had resorted to a little of the “foolish wand-waving” he had often decried in public, Snape then had at his disposal a small but select range of musty old dried herbs that lay at the bottom of dirty-looking jars which had stood, hidden and as yet unused, at the back of Snape’s most private and spell-protected potion cupboard for what seemed like forever. 

Mere possession of these last items would be enough to send Snape to Azkaban for life if anyone else found out about these necessary staple components of the most fatal and untraceable poison known to practitioners of the Dark Arts.

Snape had never even tried to utilise any of these herbs before, but he had more than enough confidence in his skills as a maker of potions. He knew that concocting the poison was something he could achieve with time and patience, and hoped that, for his and his beloved’s sakes, there would be enough of both of those.

He put aside his usual pewter cauldron and removed a solid gold one from the back of the same cupboard from which he had retrieved the herbs. This had, appropriately, been a very special gift from Lucius some years back and Snape had always treasured it immensely, although he had never put it to use until that very moment. It had been given to him mere days before Lucius had come to him with the news that he had to ask the witch who was then known as Narcissa Black to marry him. 

Until then, Snape had not been able to look at the beautiful and precious object without pain. But he knew full well that only a golden vessel was a container of sufficient purity for this most hazardous and most needed of substances to brew within.

Drawing a deep breath, he began to measure out the quantities of each toxic item with meticulous precision. His concentration had to be absolute, and he could not afford the slightest distraction or tremble of his hand. Everything had to be perfect, and if it was not Snape would have failed and would need to start again. And he was not sure that he had time to do that.

The potion was far more trouble than a simple Avada Kedavra would be, but Snape knew that the concoction was his sole hope, for Voldemort, fearing physical death above all else as he so foolishly did, was bound to have employed every protection magically possible against it. 

“There are far worse things in the universe than death to fear,” Snape muttered under his breath, and imagined Lucius nodding in agreement with him. The so-called Dark Lord, clouded by ego as he was, did not have the wisdom to realise this. He was, however, cunning enough to guard against threats to his person, although perhaps he may not have been so vigilant on behalf of the one for whom the poison was actually intended.

“One slippery serpent may evade justice, but the other will not,” Snape whispered as the deadly potion began to simmer at last over the flames, filling the air around him with the most noxious fumes he had ever smelled. He coughed and turned his face away from the vile stench, and prayed to whatever forces in the universe might be listening that his creation would have the desired effect upon its target - Voldemort’s companion, the snake Nagini. Without her, Voldemort would be far more vulnerable to attacks.

And after the crucial talks with Dumbledore, Snape would need to figure out how to feed the potion to Nagini… but at least he had successfully brewed the toxin so that it would become as colourless and odourless as Veritaserum and would look no more poisonous than a refreshing pool of water.

Snape put the potion aside to cool and readied an equally clear and transparent bottle to contain it when the heat had lessened, and then went to check on Lucius.

His beloved lay sound asleep, pale and beautiful as a marble statue; Lucius seemed almost angelic as Snape bent to kiss his brow.

Hell was about to be unleashed upon the false Dark Lord, and it could mean the end of everything if Snape failed. But looking upon the serene face of Lucius, and hearing him murmur something as he slept that sounded almost like the name “Severus”, made Snape feel braver than he ever had before.

It was not for himself, for pure-blood sovereignty, or even for Lily’s memory that he would attempt to topple the Dark Lord.

Snape would never admit it aloud, but all that he would do from this moment on would be only for Lucius.


End file.
